[Intro: Dave East]

Huh?

What a day

[Verse 1: Dave East]

Fresh out the bookings, my mental thinkin’ about millions

Watchin’ for cameras, couples hammers we stashed in the building

Different, ain’t got no answers for me

Negative vibes in my circle feeling like cancer to me

Kidnap your daughter, we on her, go get that ransom for me

Connect from Indonesia, about his paper

I’ll date you later, ‘cause him don't need ya

Dope is amazing, it got him shakin’, look like a seizure

Bitch from Jamaica, they hatin’, fuck it, they in the bleachers

I’m startin' five, eyes open, just look alive

Go through my book of rhymes, you’ll see that I took my time

O.G. got that raw smell, Ivy League, no Cornell

Double cup with my sprite mix, transportin’ with a white chick

See the burrow with a perc' in me, pilot told me I'm a flight risk

Cross the border, got work with me, early morning plus night shift

Got a hit man, just make the call, he write the list

Side bitch got my wifey pissed, wanted an icey wrist since ‘96

But

[Bridge: J.R. Writer]

The real is back, how real is that?

Where them writtens you’ve written at? They chicken scratch

I don’t listen to silly cats with simple tracks

Who told you that they was feeling that, that shit is wack (huh?)

[Chorus: J.R. Writer]

I really rap, I really rap, (turn me up)

Yeah, I really rap

(Talk my shit) Don't compare me to nobody, my shit is crack

[Verse 2: J.R. Writer]

Look

In Harlem, I’m goody, your [?] was hoody

You play me just a little B, I’ma stomp you and boogie

I’m far from a rookie, don't disrespect it, and just expect it

Your girl gon’ throw the mouth piece until she get rejected

The kid’s selective and you reckless with them hoes you pick

She need to go get stitched, she doesn’t even know she hit

Expose you pricks and you hoes, you want a lift? The answer's no

I cut it short, I’m from New York, that slut can walk, Amber Rose

It ain’t hard to see I copped out on armory

D. Wade, Cavaliers, opt out, don't start with me

J.R. should be your idol, I ain’t your rival

And y’all ain’t fuckin’ with me, period, y’all need some Midol

Mind you, I’m in a room 'bout as high as the Eiffel

And it got so many views, it’s about to go viral

I should advise you, I’m tuckin’ the semi

Settin’ up shop just to fuck with the city, who tusslin' with me

None of them, I’ma be ripping the mic til I’m hundred and twenty

Yeah, understand I rock, all these bands I clock

Fresh out the big shack and “Your man's not hot”

Fuck the plans y’all got, I will son y’all any day

Come brawl or you in the way, young boy this the NBA

[Chorus: J.R. Writer]

I really rap, I really rap

Yeah, I really rap

Don't compare me to nobody, my shit is crack